The Air Is Full Of Spices
by Eavis
Summary: Scott and Derek go off for some (forced) bonding time and Stiles & Co. bake. 4th in my au series It's A Pack Thing (You Wouldn't Understand).


The next day is Friday, which means it is the day of the night of the full moon, which means Stiles is watching Scott very closely in case he suddenly gets the urge to eat one of the raw livers they're dissecting in Biology and then rip all his clothes off and run howling through the corridors.

And okay, Scott hasn't even tried to eat anything raw in like, forever (unless you count all the raw cookie dough), but Stiles isn't leaving this to chance. English, Chemistry (thankfully), Algebra, and History all go smoothly, and Scott is ever giving some of his attention to the lesson instead of all of his attention to Allison, but then in Econ, in the middle of Finstock's lecture that is mostly about next game's plays with some muddled references to the relative value of the English pound to the American dollar, Scott's head snaps up and he honest to goodness starts _growling_, right there in class, and he's looking in the direction of the parking lot and Stiles checks the time and holy crap.

It's 2:50 and Derek must be here. Scott's probably sensing another werewolf and to his poor full-moon-addled brain Derek being at Scott's school is probably like someone spitting in his chocolate milk (and that is a very serious offense, because Stiles is of the firm belief that chocolate is sacred and nothing and nobody had better mess with it) so in a way it's no wonder he's growling. All the same, he texts Derek, _Dude, you're making Scott growl in class. Back off._

A couple minutes later he gets the terse reminder, _3:30_, but Scott's hackles go back down and he isn't growling anymore or dashing out for a battle to the last wolfy fang, so Stiles will take this as a win.

As soon as class lets out he texts Derek again, _Right side door. Hurry._ And then grabs Scott and their two backpacks and books it. Thankfully Scott is going along with him, even if his hands keep clenching and unclenching convulsively, because Stiles is almost positive if Scott didn't want to move nothing Stiles could do would budge him.

They're waiting at the side door, Scott just kind of staring into space and letting out infinitesimal growls deep in his chest, and then Derek pulls up and the growling gets louder. Stiles cautiously maneuvers Scott out the door towards the car. "Come on, man, let's just go talk to the nice alpha who is hopefully going to make sure you don't kill any- whoa, hey!"

They're only a couple feet from Derek and the Camero now, but Scott whirls on Stiles, his eyes that inhuman gold, and he's got his hands on Stiles's shoulders and his face buried in Stiles' neck and he's – he's _sniffing_, because there is really no other word for it, and he's glaring at Derek, who is just standing there in his leather jacket looking impossibly smug and a little _amused_ and seriously that is not cool because – "Hello, getting molested over here!" Stiles says, trying very hard not to squeak like a girl and shove Scott away because Scott looks like he's two seconds away from wolfing out and Stiles would very much prefer Scott keep his fangs _away_ from Stiles' lily-white neck, thank you very much.

Derek doesn't move. "He's not going to hurt you, Stiles." And still with the borderline amused face, which, okay, is an improvement over the Broody face, variations 1-27, or the I'm About To Either Die Or Rip Your Face Off face, but Stiles still wishes it weren't at his expense. "He's just making sure I don't get any ideas."

"What kind of ideas?" Because Stiles is getting a very Bad Feeling about this and it better not be what he thinks it is because that is just –

"He was scenting you. You're a part of his pack. Even though Scott knows he has to go with me to keep all of you safe, he also wants to be sure I know you belong to him."

Stiles glares at his best friend, who has finally moved away from sniffing – _scenting_ – Stiles' neck and is placidly climbing into the passenger seat of the Camaro. "I don't belong to anyone!"

"You're part of his Pack," Derek repeats as he turns away, sliding into the driver's seat. Stiles can hear the capital letter. Before they pull away, Derek says, "Don't come by the house until tomorrow afternoon. He'll probably still be asleep until at least 2:00. Full moons aren't…easy for us. They especially won't be easy for Scott."

Stiles nods and watches them pull away. Left without his best friend for most of the weekend, he weighs his options. His dad is working late today, which means he'll probably get something from the diner to eat for dinner, which means Stiles needs to stop in there on his way home and remind Jo that his dad really can't have anything greasy or full of fats no matter how much he asks. He could spend the time researching ways to help both Scott and Lydia, but he's already exhausted all the (pitifully few) resources the Beacon Hills Library has to offer on anything werewolf/folklore/mythology related, even reading all the young adult fantasy books, which have absolutely _nothing_ helpful to add, but did make Stiles despair of the collective IQ of humankind. And he's already gone through and bookmarked any websites that look halfway reliable (and yes, that includes the Supernatural wiki, because hey, _werewolves_, and Stiles is seriously thinking about laying in some bags of rock salt) so there's not much left he can do on that front until he gets some responses to the feelers he's put out on some of the websites and some of the books he's ordered come in.

His phone vibrates and it's a message from Erica saying, _Hey Batman. Is your nerdy friend ok? He didnt look so hot earlier._

He grins at the nickname and texts back, _yeah, he's fine. He just gets these allergy attacks sometimes_, which is true – Scott's totally allergic to the full moon, and then he glances at the date and notices it's November 18th, which means that Thanksgiving is very soon, and maybe he and his dad haven't really done much for Thanksgiving the past few years, but there should at least be pie, because Stiles will side with Dean Winchester about pie every time. He glances thoughtfully at his phone and then texts Erica again, _Hey, do you want to come over and help me make pies? I'm gonna see if Allison will come._

_Sure! Ok if I ride w/ you?_

_You got it. Front stairs, 10 min._

He doesn't ask if she needs to check with anybody first. Whatever foster family Erica's living with, he's gotten the impression from some things she's said that they don't really care what she's doing or when she does it. He just sends the text and goes to find Allison. She's standing in front of her locker looking at something in one of her textbooks when Stiles plummets to a stop in front of her, and when he asks her if she wants to come bake pies with him and Erica, she glances at whatever it is before looking away, chewing on her lip. "Scott isn't going to be there."

And it's not really a question, but Stiles says anyway, "No." He hesitates, because this might still be a really bad time to bring it up, but then he says, "He's…learning animal control, maybe you could say. It's that time of the month."

Allison looks confused. Stiles rolls his eyes and adds impatiently, "You know, full moon? And with things being what they are with – " he gestures to Allison in particular and around at life in general, " – we decided it was probably best for him not to be around people."

She glances down, lacing her fingers together over her book. "He's – he's okay, right? I mean, he's not by himself tonight locked up somewhere?"

"Nah," Stiles says easily, "He's with –" and then stops because he doesn't really know what to call Derek. Friend? Mentor? Werewolf Yoda? "He's with an expert," is what he settles on, and that isn't quite right, because yeah, Derek kinda is an expert, and Scott is a novice, but still, that dynamic doesn't quite fit them.

He pulls his attention back to Allison and smiles winningly. "So, you in? I promise I know how to not poison you."

She looks at him for a minute, then says, "Just as long as you aren't planning on making pecan pie. Nothing that calls itself a dessert should have nuts in it."

Stiles' opens his mouth, then just stands there like a codfish, because there are _so many_ things wrong with that statement, but he has to go meet Erica, so he just says, "I'll see you there, then," and walks away, although not before promising himself that he and Allison will have the 'pecan pie is awesome and anyone who disagrees is a moron' discussion out later.

On the way, in between arguing with Erica about whether Smallville should be considered part of Superman's canon, Stiles texts Boyd to see if he wants to join their pie making gang. He gets another '_sure'_ in response, and then a second later, _Anything I can bring?_

Stiles mentally catalogues the ingredients they'll need and the number of delicious pastries he wants to make (a clue: lots) and concludes that he's going to need to stop at the store himself, so he replies, _Just your charming self. :)_

After a quick stop at the diner to talk to Jo, who promises to tell the rest of her staff about the Sheriff's restrictions, they hit the grocery store, where they bicker about which are the best apples and squabble over who gets to push the cart. When Stiles tries to get some margarine to make the crusts, Erica makes an outraged squawkish sort of noise and shoves it back on the shelf. "You can't use _margarine_!" She says, like Stiles just broke the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, and Hammurabi's Code of Laws all at once.

"It has less fat than butter!" Stiles protests, trying to reach around her to put it back into the cart.

Erica puts one hand on her hip and points the other in Stiles' face. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse to be a part of the pseudo-butter consuming masses. Pies made with margarine are only good for smashing over the heads of the blockheads who made them."

Stiles slowly raises his hands to a calming, 'I'm not going anywhere near the margarine because you are a scary, scary lady' posture. "Um, so, I'll just grab some butter? Because you obviously feel very strongly about this and you are kind of scaring me right now, Romanoff."

Erica just gives him a victorious smirk and sashays down towards the flour.

Once they finally pull into the Stilinski's driveway, Allison is sitting on the front steps, and Boyd drives in as they're carrying the last of the groceries into the house. Stiles makes the introductions while juggling cans of frozen apple juice and then they all troop into the house and stand around the kitchen, staring expectantly at Stiles.

Stiles, who is trying very hard to remember why he even thought bringing a bunch of people who had hardly (and never) met each other before was a good idea to begin with, stares back at them.

An awkward fifteen seconds go by before Boyd clears his throat and asks, "Um, so am I allowed in your kitchen now? Or is this just a one time only thing and any time I try it afterwards I'll be asphyxiated?"

Stiles laughs and then explains to Erica and Allison that he usually doesn't like people helping him clean up, to which Boyd adds dryly that he got that impression the other night when Stiles threatened to smother him with a towel if he tried to clear another dish and then points to a towel on the counter and says, "There sits the instrument of my doom," with a deadpan face to rival _Derek's_, seriously, and everyone starts laughing.

Stiles claps his hands together briskly. "All right. Let's divvy up the duties. Allison, Erica, have either of you ever made piecrust before? No? Okay. Then Allison, you are on pumpkin pie custard detail – just follow the instructions on the can – and Erica, you start peeling apples. Boyd, you are on apple slicing until the dishes start piling up. At which point you will wash them _all_ in return for the remark about my towel." Stiles throws said towel over one shoulder and marches over to the pantry with his nose in the air.

After the initial flurry of finding everyone bowls, measuring cups, peelers, and knives, the atmosphere settles into a more or less comfortably busy silence as everyone works. Stiles sets himself up at the end of the low island and busies himself measuring three cups of flour into a bowl with a teaspoon of salt and then cutting one and a fourth cup of butter into the mix and adding an egg, a tablespoon of vinegar, and five tablespoons of lukewarm water. Since they're making five or so pies, technically he could triple the recipe, but his mom had never done that – she said the crust never turned out as light and flaky.

As he works he hears Allison asking Boyd if he has any siblings, to which Boyd answers yes, one sister still in elementary school. "What made you ask?"

Allison smiles and gestures with her whisk. "You have glitter on your sweater and a little bit of pink nail polish on your hand."

Boyd looks down at the glitter and grins ruefully at the nail polish. "She's having a tea party tonight – I got to be the guinea pig."

The girls laugh and Erica says, "From what I remember of tea parties with my cousins, I'm surprised you didn't show up in a glitter crown and a pink feather boa."

He hunches over his cutting board as he admits, "They're in the truck."

Erica and Allison go off into gales of laughter and Stiles tries to not drop the eggs at the mental image of Boyd in a tiara and pink feather boa.

As soon as the dough is looking suitably pastry-like, he wraps it in cling-wrap and sticks it into the fridge to chill until Allison's done with the pumpkin filling. "You are doubling that, right?" He asks, leaning over the countertop to watch her work. She looks at the four empty cans of pumpkin and then at Stiles. "What do you think, Sherlock?"

Stiles throws up his hands. "You and Erica, geez! Cut a clueless guy some slack, here. I bow before your superior intellect and intuition."

Allison raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "What did Erica do?"

"I wouldn't let him buy margarine to make the pie crusts." Erica tosses her hair back over her shoulder and picks up another apple. "Stiles, do I get points for peeling a whole apple in one strip?"

He gives a full body eyeroll. "Sure. You get allllllll the points, and Allison gets all the points and Boyd and I are just going to wander pointsless through life because we are not super smart, super apple peeling undercover superheroes. I am just going to leave you to revel in your respective awesomeness and go make four more pie crusts."

They make five pies – a pumpkin, two apple, a blueberry, and, despite Allison's protests, a pecan. Stiles teases Allison mercilessly when he finds out she's never rolled out a piecrust before, but nevertheless shows her how to dust the counter, the dough, and the rolling pin so it doesn't stick and how to roll out from the middle in all directions instead of just back and forth. And then Allison looks up from a beautifully round crust exactly an eighth of an inch thick and teases, "Is this all right, _mom_?" and Stiles suddenly, desperately wishes Scott were here to crack some stupid joke even while his eyes assure Stiles he's here and he understands, but Scott is probably getting the stuffing kicked out of him by Derek "I'm the alpha now" Hale, so Stiles forces a smile and makes some response and then goes to sit on the floor of his mom's old closet and just _breathe_. After around ten minutes have gone by, he wipes away a few stray tears (how can something still hurt so much after so much time?) and goes down to turn on the oven.

Erica's mixed the apple pie filling – cinnamon, apple juice, a couple of eggs, and a quarter cup of flour mixed in with the thinly sliced apples – and the other pies are already in the oven, so once the apple pies are all put together and Allison and Erica have both carved designs into the top crust (Allison smirks at him and draws a moon and Erica smirks at him and carves Batman symbol and Stiles feels like everyone in his life is just using him as a smirk-receptor) they all migrate into the living room, where they bicker over what to watch while they wait for the pies.

Boyd suggests _Die Hard_, but the girls shoot that down immediately ("Not that Alan Rickman and Bruce Willis aren't hot and blowing things up is always awesome, but not with _pie_," which seems to settle that) and then Stiles suggests a _Supernatural_ binge, which brings a resounding "NO!" because apparently people's idea of a relaxing evening doesn't include getting their hearts ripped apart over and over again. They finally decide on a Lord of the Rings marathon and settle in comfortably, Allison in the recliner and the other three on the couch.

At Rivendell, Stiles gets up to switch the pies in the oven for the one on the counter and at Lothlorien, he takes out the apple pies and starts dinner. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard by the time he brings out bowls of Jonny Marzetti for everyone and when Two Towers credits begin to roll they bring out the pies and dig in with enthusiasm. Stiles manages to save a piece of blueberry for his dad before Erica pounces on the rest of it. They take another break halfway through the first disk of Return of the King to put away the remaining pie and wash the dishes (which Stiles insists on doing because his kitchen, his rules; he has a towel and he's not afraid to use it) and then they all pile back onto the couch for an emotional last hour and a half.

When the Sheriff gets home, he finds all four still in the living room, Allison crying and Stiles blinking at a suspiciously fast rate and Erica half asleep leaning against Boyd as "Into the West" pours out of the speakers.

He nods at Boyd, raises an eyebrow at Erica and Allison, and scrubs a quick hand over Stiles' head before heading into his office to lock his gun into the safe.

Stiles intercepts him on his way to the kitchen with a bowl of pasta in one hand and a plate of blueberry pie in the other.

His dad cocks his head. "Pie and real meat? It's like you knew Jo told me off today for 'cheating' and threatened to cut off my coffee if I did it again."

His son's face screws up, "I…can neither confirm nor deny that statement. Just have your cake and eat it too, dad."

The sheriff takes the food and eyes the meat in the pasta suspiciously. "This is the 97% lean stuff, isn't it?"

Stiles squirms. "Maaaayyyybe? But if you value your son's life at all, don't tell Boyd. I think he actually might accuse me of trying to kill him – death by low-fat meat."

His dad just raises an eyebrow. "Speaking of Boyd, you want to tell me what a kid you met yesterday, Scott's ex, and a girl I don't know from Eve are doing on my couch at eleven-thirty at night?"

"She's not _exactly_ Scott's ex, they're more just taking a break right –"

"Stiles."

"-I know, not the issue." Stiles looks over his shoulder to check that everyone is still in the living room. "You remember hearing about Erica Reyes, dad?"

"The little girl with epilepsy and the abusive dad? Her mom died in the hospital after one of the neighbors finally called it in?"

"Yeah. She went into the system after her mom died and I don't know what family she's with, but I don't think they care very much about her as a person. She doesn't have friends at school either, which is stupid because she's one of the most awesome people ever, and anyway, it's almost Thanksgiving, so I just thought –" he gestures to the plate in the sheriff's hand. " - pie."

His dad has an odd look on his face. "Your mom would be proud of you, Stiles." He clears his throat, glancing down at the pie in his hand. "And I'll call DSS tomorrow to check on Erica's foster family. But I still want everyone home in their respective beds by midnight."

The only time Erica's family is mentioned is in season two, which doesn't exist in the 'verse, so hence this backstory. Any and all recipies mentioned in this story actually exist – Jonny Marzetti is diced tomatoes, ground beef, macaroni, and salt and pepper/whatever seasoning your heart desires all mixed together – and are awesome.


End file.
